“The biblical storytellers recall the past, often the very distant past, not “objectively,” but purposefully. They had skin in the game. These were their stories. They wove narratives of the past to give meaning to their present—to persuade, motivate, and inspire.
To make that happen, like all storytellers, biblical storytellers invented and augmented dialogue, characters, and scenes to turn past moments into a flowing story—not because they were lazy or sneaky, but because that’s what all storytellers need to do to create a narrative. They shifted and arranged the past, or wove together discrete moments, all for the purpose of telling their story for their audience.
The Bible itself gives 100 percent proof that the biblical writers were doing just that: they present the same past events from different perspectives. And by different, I mean very different—big scenes, important details, and dialogue differ among writers.
The story of Jesus, the center of the Christian faith, is told from four different perspectives in the four Gospels. In the Old Testament we have two lengthy, very different, takes on Israel’s past. At times these stories of Jesus and Israel contradict each other. They can’t be combined somehow make one story without losing large portions of any one of these stories. Each story is meant to stand on its own—as their storytellers intended them to.
What could be more normal than for different people, living at different times, in different places, who wrote about the past for different reasons and to different audiences, to produce different versions on the past? Nothing. And that’s what we see in the Bible.”
Readers who come to the Bible expecting something more like an accurate textbook, a more-or-less objective recalling of the past—because, surely, God wouldn’t have it any other way—are in for an uncomfortable read. But if they take seriously the words in front of them, they will quickly find that the Bible doesn’t deliver on that expectation. Not remotely.
Expecting the Bible to act out of character leads to stress and anxiety and leaves us with a choice: either change our expectations to conform to what is actually in the Bible or find some way to force the Bible into our mold.
I’m going with the first option.
When we allow the Bible to set its own agenda, to show us what we have the right to expect—trusting God enough to let the Bible be what it is—we open ourselves to God’s Word with its challenges and possibilities without a lurking fear of what we might find and going into shock when we find it.
What drove the Bible’s storytellers to recall the past the way they did was the quest to experience God in the present, a sometimes volatile and catastrophic present.
What makes the Bible God’s Word isn’t its uncanny historical accuracy, as some insist, but the sacred experiences these stories point to, beyond the words themselves. Watching these ancient pilgrims work through their faith, even wrestling with how they did that, models for us our own journeys of seeking to know God better and commune with him more deeply.
If we miss that—if we expect the Bible to be God’s objective Spark Notes on the past—the stories in the Bible will forever be a source of needless frustration.”
Excerpt From: Enns, Peter. “The Bible Tells Me So: Why Defending Scripture Has Made Us Unable to Read It.”